


The Homunculi

by wrabbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Burke!Watson, Comment Fic, Community: shkinkmeme, Formerly Anonymous, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-20
Updated: 2011-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:38:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/pseuds/wrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson comes home with little dolls based on his popular stories. Holmes hates them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Homunculi

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism: Welcome

Sherlock Holmes knew he was in trouble from nothing so much as the twinkle in John Watson's eye the moment he stepped into Baker Street, with his hands held behind his back. "Good evening, Holmes," said Watson.

"Hello," Holmes answered apprehensively. "You are most cheerful about something this evening."

"Do you know what?"

"I couldn't possibly." Holmes leaned back in his seat at his chemical table at the widening of Watson's grin. As Watson's slowly began to reveal his hands, Holmes raised both eyebrows, his lips near falling open in most uncharacteristically silent disgust and horror. Watson, of course, took his alarm to be shared delight and practically skipped to the mantle with his prizes.

Two dolls. One bedecked with deerstalker and matching cape and accessorized with a grotesquely sized pipe sewn to where its mouth ought to have been. The other, dressed in a crude bowler hat and long coat, any identifying features obscured by a suspiciously large mustache of black felt.

Holmes made his face carefully blank as Watson turned around, having placed them companionably side by side above the fireplace.

"It's us, Holmes! Can't you see?"

"I should have thought one set was enough for you," said Holmes.

Watson chuckled good-naturedly, and that's when Holmes knew: Watson could never be allowed to know the truth: They had to be destroyed.

Unfortunately it was not to be.

\----

They were staring at him again, the one in the deerstalker in particular - it positively glared, silver-threaded eyes flashing in the firelight as it confided Holmes's observable habits to its partner in doll-crime.

Holmes glanced at the clock, then back at the dolls, then back at the clock. Watson would not be home from the barber's for at least another twenty minutes. He lifted the penknife from Watson's desk carefully, held it behind his hip for the approach.

"Holmes! What are you doing?"

"What?"

Holmes dropped the doll in his haste to tear the knife away from its gut, and then fumbled knife as well. They clattered to the floor in front of the fireplace, side by side in obvious significance. He placed his hands behind his back like a guilty child as Watson finished removing his coat.

"What were you doing with Sherlock?" Watson asked.

"Sherlock?" asked Holmes.

Watson had the grace to look away. "Well I can't very well call him Holmes," he said.

Holmes edged away from the evidence at his feet and retreated to his chemical table as Watson moved to retrieve the doll and silver knife from the ground.

Watson smoothed its cape lovingly without speaking, a thoughtful crease between his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, Watson!" Holmes blurted. "It stares at me, night and day. I thought I would go mad. I truly did not intend to hurt... Sherlock."

Watson's back was turned, his head bent to look at the doll, cradled safe once again in his hands. "Oh, Holmes," he finally said, turning. His mustache twitched as he attempted to suppress a grin. He finally turned it on the horrid doll, instead of his friend.

Holmes frowned. It was worse than he thought.

"Holmes," Watson said again. "If you hated them, you need only have said."

"I'm sorry?"

Watson laughed and Holmes smiled slightly to hear it, despite his confusion.

"You don't have to kill it, Holmes," Watson said, giggling. "I'll keep him in my drawer where he can't see you."

"I promise I won't be a danger to them any longer," Holmes said quickly, relieved.

"I should hope not." Watson sighed and rubbed his eyes, still smiling.

"Take 'John,' too."

"Of course. So they won't be lonely."

"Yes, of course," Holmes agreed, nodding. He blew out the flame he had lit as soon as Watson looked away. It wasn't needed any longer.


End file.
